


Working Out the Kinks

by themadlurker



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Anthropomorphism - Freefom, Other, POV Inanimate Object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-31
Updated: 2009-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadlurker/pseuds/themadlurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin consoles Arthur's armour about its sad lot in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Out the Kinks

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [slightlytookish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish)'s [For the Love of Arthur's Armour](http://slightlytookish.livejournal.com/332052.html).

The chain mail slumped in on itself in utter dejection as it felt the warmth of its caretaker retreat from the room. Its links were already growing cold in the abandoned room, and it clung to the memory of the gentle, soothing hands that had caressed it only moments ago before being snatched away so suddenly.

The armour tried not to resent its place in the world. It knew it had been made for a purpose and that its destiny could only be fulfilled by serving one man. It knew that without Arthur Pendragon, its existence would be meaningless — that perhaps it would not exist at all, made as it had been expressly to mold itself around his muscles in a protective embrace.

Could it help it if it would rather wrap itself around a different body? If it preferred the hands that smoothed it so tenderly into place on its owner, that gathered it up at the end of a long and weary day of combat, that eased out the damage done by the repeated blows, the dents, the injuries — the warmth of a fleeting touch that briefly banished the cold of nights spent in the armoury, desolate and alone.

_Merlin_, a name carried not by sound, but by a waning glimmer of awareness, echoed sadly through the room.

 

Consciousness returned with presence of a familiar feeling to the room. After Merlin's coldly neglectful rush to leave, the chain mail could feel life and hope returning, a thin and fragile tendril of heat racing along each link, spreading out to its edges. It trembled as footsteps approached, and slowly a hand reached out.

A wave of peace washed over the armour as it felt itself being tenderly gathered up, whispered apologies for its earlier abandonment soothing away the hurt of neglect. Cradled in his lap, the armour let itself uncoil, spreading over Merlin's thighs, hugging the curve of a hip.

Merlin's fingers danced teasingly over the links, checking his earlier mending, dancing across the armour, leaving a shower of tiny sparks wherever he touched. A warm glow suffused the chain mail. It knew that this burst of magic was unnecessary. Over the last year, Merlin had become skilled at caring for it — instead of hammering away at the metal in frustration, his hands massaged at the kinks, quickly and deftly sliding each link back into place, magic twisting in wherever the fingers couldn't reach, taking apart the damaged pieces and remaking them, whole. This touch, though, the brush of magic that wasn't intended to repair, just a simple gesture of affection, a way of checking in that everything was well, set the armour alight with a glow that reached deep into its core.

The armour tried to let go of its frustration at being left behind while so recently overwhelmed by the magic of Merlin's mending, but some of the discomfort still hovered beneath the surface of the metal, a faint thrum of tension that Merlin seemed to notice, because he whispered another faint apology, sending a soothing wave of magic to chase away the armour's inner turmoil. The chain mail could feel Merlin's understanding sink into it: Merlin never wanted to leave it, either, never wanted to send it out with Arthur to fight, never wanted it to get injured. But they were alike, the two of them; their higher duties overcame personal interest, and they must both put themselves in the way of harm to protect the prince. At least they could care for each other, after.

The armour could feel that shared spark of consciousness, the connection and understanding that had leapt between them from the first time that Merlin had worked his way into its soul with his magical fingers, as if bringing it to life for the first time. It did its best to return the favour, forcing all its iron will into the push of sensation, wrapping itself more snugly around Merlin, as if that alone could transmit its thoughts, "yes, yes, give me this, fill me with your magic, I will protect him for you, I will be where your hands cannot reach, I will hold him and caress him and keep him safe from all harm. I will cradle him as if I were your own two hands. Give me the strength and the will to do this, and I will endure everything — for your sake, for his."

The hands stilled, and the armour knew that Merlin had received its message, for the thoughts returned, mirrored back to it in a sudden cresting wave of magic that caught it up in a flood of sensation: love, and trust, and protection. Buoyed along by the tide, the armour felt invulnerable, invincible. Nothing could hurt it — Merlin would keep it safe and sound so that together, the two of them could protect their future king. The armour cried out with every atom of its being, clutching spasmodically at Merlin's hands, trying to hold on to the heady flush of joy that was already sinking away fast.

Merlin continued stroking it until the links, almost unbound, tumbled limply across his lap, then gathered them up and laid them out alongside his bed. The chain mail longed to be able to crawl its way over to where Merlin lay, to wrap him in a protective embrace against the world, but it could still feel the conviction, through the connection that had riveted between them, of the necessity of this separation. If only the cold of the stone floor didn't sink so quickly into it, leeching out its happiness...

Its awareness already beginning to drift, the armour suddenly felt itself being gathered up in Merlin's hands and laid out gently next to him on the mattress. The chain mail let itself fold carefully around Merlin's arm, not wanting to disturb him when he slept, but molding itself as closely as it dared. If it could, it would have welded itself beneath Merlin's sleeping skin, wrapped him with the same loving care that the servant gave away so freely to others — but it could not. It could only let itself have this one warm night, and hope somehow, by its presence, it could ease Merlin's dreams.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] For the Love of Arthur's Armour and Working Out the Kinks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274517) by [sophinisba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba)




End file.
